As Feng Xue cooked today’s dinner under the fervent gaze of a suspected female fan, the large and small businesses in Bakerland’s Jowood District were also nearing closing ti.
Victoria, due to certain historical reasons, strictly observed an eight-hour workday. When quitting ti arrived, even if finishing the task at hand would take just two more minutes, many would opt to save their work and continue the next day.
Especially after the recent string of murders in the East District and Jowood District, working overti had beco a high-risk affair, deterring even those previously inclined to work late, who now mostly chose to leave for ho early.
The employees left in groups of twos and threes. Those who once preferred shortcuts through parks and alongside rivers conscientiously opted for busier pedestrian streets and subway stations instead.
After all, a daily murder rate that might go unnoticed in a war-torn country was strikingly low for the quaint Saint Luotan City, but for the self-proclaid civilized nation, the developed capital of Victoria, it instilled panic among the white-collar class, who considered themselves a step above the proletariat.
Although the streets were often patrolled by police officers, this was clearly insufficient to reassure the public. The prolonged failure to catch the criminal over the past two months had greatly diminished the credibility of West Vila Field, and online there were nurous rumors that "demons were harvesting lives." Tales of cultists, demons, and anti-Christ-like figures were rife, casting an unusual gloom over religious Bakerland, to the extent that so even speculated about Na Cui’s ultimate squadron attacking Bakerland with a legion of vampires.
Regardless of how tense the atmosphere beca, there were still those who, driven by life’s demands, were forced to work late into the night.
Gradually, the night enveloped all of Bakerland. Although continuous efforts to address industrial pollution had reduced the chronic smog, Bakerland’s geographic conditions made it prone to fog.
The gauze-like mist was thin, not even dense enough to dampen a collar, but it made the already dim streetlights appear even more obscured.
As the lights in the office buildings went out, the employees who had worked late hurried out, and a pair of hidden eyes in the shadows refocused.
"Ugh, why are they all old n... Never mind, just pick one with a better-looking face; their wives and children generally aren’t too ugly either..." A cold gaze swept over each passerby, and in viewing these tired, greasy middle-aged n, a touch of disappointnt crossed those eyes.
Just as he was trying to find a man with a decent appearance, a figure suddenly caught his attention.
It was a young woman, wearing the common business attire of the white-collar world, carrying a small handbag, swiftly moving through the night.
Her looks were not particularly outstanding, but she was undoubtedly attractive. What drew his attention at first glance was her voluptuous figure accentuated by her uniform.
Her slender, fleshy legs were encased in tight stockings and a pair of high heels accentuated her already tall figure.
Her bright blonde hair casually fell behind her back, swaying gently with the movent of her hips, tempting anyone to pounce on her from behind.
"Slurp, her then!"
All previous thoughts were abandoned in an instant by the owner of those cold eyes, driven by a strong desire to make a new choice.
...
Miranda left the office building, briskly walking under the street lights. It was very late, and there were few pedestrians on the streets, but the occasional sight of a police officer offered her a bit of courage to navigate the night.
But only a little.
After all, over the past two months, the efficiency of the police in Bakerland had been exceedingly poor. Neither the church explosion case nor the serial killings at Tasoke River had made any progress; even the serial ho invasion murders relied solely on the psychological abnormalities of the criminal, who left a survivor to piece together a facial puzzle. Yet even with such a clue in hand, the murderer was never caught.
"I hope my luck isn’t too bad, I really don’t want to live through another day like this!"
Miranda tightened her collar, blocking the chilly spring fog from sneaking in through her neckline. She kept to the well-lit paths as much as possible and occasionally looked back to make sure no one was following her.
Fortunately, her apartnt wasn’t too far away. After about fifteen minutes of walking, Miranda finally saw her building.
The elevator rose floor by floor, and Miranda’s mood relaxed with it.
"Is the sensor light broken again?" She coughed softly, realizing that the corridor light hadn’t turned on. Frowning, Miranda hastened to her doorstep based on mory and rang her doorbell. Soon after, the voice of a young man ca from inside:
"Who is it?"
"Honey, it’s , Miranda!" Miranda responded casually, and imdiately the sound of the door lock turning followed. But just as the door opened, a figure suddenly burst out from the shadow!
It was as sudden as a fish jumping out of the water.
The figure had repeated this action countlessly, having "aid" at its target even before jumping out of the "water."
One hand targeted Miranda’s nape while the other yanked the door that had just cracked open.
"I’ve got it!" The arm’s owner revealed an elated expression, almost able to envision everything that was about to happen.
Yes, just like before—rip the door open, forcibly enter the room, then control everyone inside, find sothing to prop open their eyes, and make them watch...
rely fantasizing about it, the man felt an overwhelming physiological pleasure. What he hadn’t anticipated was his usually foolproof attack had failed!
Coincidence? Observing the woman suddenly lowering her head, the man hadn’t managed to change his move when his left hand was already on the doorknob, and he almost instantly made a decision—
"The woman can’t escape, open the door first!"
Trendous strength burst from his hands, and the slightly opened security door was violently pulled open. To his astonishnt, behind the door stood not panicked civilians but two fully ard n with guns!
"Damn, it’s a trap!"
The shadowy figure imdiately thought of escaping, but in that mont, the crouching Miranda suddenly pulled sothing out of her handbag.
Instantly, the whole corridor was as bright as day—no, not just day, it was like an operating room under a surgery light with not a single shadow in sight.
At the sa ti, the doors on both sides of the corridor opened as if commanded, and a group of n wearing bullet-proof vests and goggles burst out from different rooms. The next mont, the corridor was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire...
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